


ATLA 4STL

by beersforqueers



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:21:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27566665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beersforqueers/pseuds/beersforqueers
Summary: What if we kissed 😳 in the Four Seasons Total Landscaping parking lot
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong/Suki
Comments: 27
Kudos: 195





	ATLA 4STL

**Author's Note:**

> We can all agree that kissing someone is not a good way to make them calm down or shut up, but it's a fanfic ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, trying to shoehorn some romance into this election cycle was a brand new challenge that I was maybe not as prepared for as I thought I was 😅

The first thing Sokka heard on Saturday morning was Zuko’s voice on the other end of the phone line. Well not an actual phone line, that would be absurd. It was facetime audio. 

“What the hell is happening in the Four Seasons parking lot?” Zuko demanded.

“How the hell should I know?” Sokka said. He rolled over and looked blearily at his alarm clock. It was barely 8am. “You know I don’t come in till at least noon.” He flopped back onto his pillows and yawned hugely. “Did Toph hire another bounce house?” 

That had been a memorable day. She’d erected a massive “Closed to the Public due to Covid-19” sign in front of it (as though carnival-style entertainment was her landscaping business’s usual stock and trade??), and then she and Suki had spent the entire day barefoot, bouncing happily away. 

“Of course not, if she did that I would be able to visually identify it,  _ Sokka _ ,” Zuko snapped. “There are reporters. She called and asked if the crematorium had a podium.”

“Maybe at this late hour she’s announcing her candidacy for president,” Sokka suggested helpfully. 

“Would you please just come up here?” Zuko asked. “I need moral support.” 

* * *

When Sokka arrived at work he was greeted in the parking lot by Iroh. He had set up a lawn chair in a parking spot and was happily sewing himself a new mask in a truly heinous Hawaiian print. For some reason he had his birding binoculars slung around his neck. He looked cheerfully up as Sokka approached, shading his eyes with his hand. 

“Some kind of morning we are having, young man. My nephew has been pacing inside for the last hour.” 

“And you’re…” Sokka gestured at the binoculars. “On the lookout for the elusive parking lot seagull?”

“Oh no,” Iroh said seriously. “I am watching the press conference.” He put the lenses to his eyes and directed them at the back of Toph’s shop as though that explained anything he’d just said. 

“The… what?” 

Now that he came to think of it, the parking lot was popping. There was a massive semi-circle of masked reporters and photographers gathered around the white garage door that led to Toph’s storage area. 

“Did a prisoner escape?” Sokka asked hopefully. His general attitude toward prison breaks was a hearty “good for them.”

“The next closest thing,” Iroh said. “There is a convicted sex offender pretending to be an upstanding member of society.”

“He isn’t visiting my store, is he?” Sokka asked. He was now becoming alarmed. “We do  _ not _ support that kind of--”

“Oh no, he was hired by the president,” Iroh said. “Also, my nephew is waiting for you inside.”

“Riiiiight.”

Sokka waved goodbye to Iroh, who was peering through his binoculars again, and jogged across the street to the crematorium. He pushed the door open gingerly, stepped inside, snapped open his sanitizer, and splashed himself liberally.

“You don’t need to put it anywhere but your hands, Sokka.”

“Zuko!” Sokka said. “Want some hand sannie?”

“I hate it when you call it that.”

“Oh, I know,” Sokka said happily. Then, more seriously, “What the fuck is up outside?”

Zuko took a deep breath in through his nose. It was kind of funny how it sucked his mask in against his face, although Sokka’s amusement was tempered by the fact that he really wished he could see Zuko’s whole face. Was it weird to miss seeing your best friend’s mouth? Especially his lips? But also maybe how his tongue poked out when he was concentrating? Whatever, something to worry about later. 

“Toph,” Zuko said with an air of extreme restraint, “has made a grave error.”

“When hasn’t she?” Sokka said. 

“This is not like when she stole your girlfriend, Sokka,” Zuko hissed. “This has  _ national importance _ .”

“Hey now,” Sokka said, affronted. “That had importance to my nation! You’ve seen Inside Out! An entire citizenry was thrown into chaos by that event.”

“Sokka, Rudy Giuliani is standing in her parking lot.”

“No cap!”

“What?”

“Nevermind. You’re not serious, are you?” Sokka stuck his head back out the door with renewed interest. “That withered old shit-goblin? In this part of Philly?”

“Apparently last night they got a call that they assumed was a prank. Aang thought it would be funny to humor whoever it was, but then they showed up with all these signs! And reporters! They may never recover from this!”

“Who, Toph and Suki?” Sokka was only now beginning to understand the root of Zuko’s hysteria. Although to be fair to poor Zuko, he’d been manically refreshing the New York Times mobile page for days now, getting increasingly wound up with each swipe. It was no wonder he was starting to break down. 

“Who’s going to hire them now? They’re hosting a fucking Trump press conference in their backyard. Their Yelp reviews are plummeting already!”

“Oh come on now,” Sokka said reasonably. “It was an honest mistake! Once the internet realizes it’s run by a pair of Asian lesbians, people will think it’s funny.”

“Or they’ll firebomb the place,” Zuko said darkly.

That gave Sokka pause, and he peered into Zuko’s face intently. He didn’t love what he saw. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair clearly hadn’t been combed in days, and he was wearing his rattiest sweater. 

“Are you ok?” Sokka asked. “You seem a little tense.”

“A LITTLE TENSE?” Zuko bellowed. Sokka hadn’t seen him so unhinged in years, and it was deeply unsettling. “I haven’t seen anyone but Uncle in days! Our democracy balances on a knife’s edge! Rudy Giuliani is in my front yard! I--”

But Sokka had lunged forward, acting on pure instinct. He mashed his face right into Zuko’s, social distancing be damned. His momentum carried them backward into the (mercifully empty) flower display table, and his arm shot out to catch the edge of it before they both toppled over. He hung on the edge of the table, realizing with dawning horror that he had just tried to kiss Zuko through four layers of fabric and two layers of coffee filter. Or at least he assumed Zuko’s mask had a coffee filter in it. His certainly did. Safety first!

“What. The actual. Fuck.” Zuko whispered. His gold eyes were very close to Sokka’s, and they were darting nervously back and forth between each of Sokka’s. He didn’t seem angry at least? And he had calmed down. But then he said, “Am I so sleep deprived that I hallucinated you trying to kiss me? In the least romantic way ever?”

“HEY now!” Sokka repeated. “It could definitely have been less romantic! I could have done it in front of Rudy!”

Zuko dropped like a bag of rocks. Sokka looked around confusedly, but Zuko hadn’t passed out from exhausted. He was rocking back and forth on the ground laughing his head off. 

Now in general, Sokka really liked listening to Zuko laugh. It was kind of hoarse and raspy but in a pleasant way. Except this time, he had the slight suspicion that Zuko was laughing at him. 

“I tried!” Sokka said, throwing up his hands. Defiantly brandishing his hand sannie, he stomped back outside to observe the melee. 

He was leaning against the wall and considering whether to open the adult bookstore early when Zuko appeared beside him. He had slipped very quietly out of the door and unlooped the elastic of his mask from his ear. His scar looked very pink in the gentle morning sunshine. 

“I’m glad you tried,” he mumbled.

Sokka wasn’t sure he’d heard him correctly. “You’re glad I thought the best response to a mental health crisis was to shove you into a table?”

Zuko wasn’t looking at him, but the tops of his ears went red. “Well, no.”

“Good, that would make you a lunatic,” Sokka said. He reached up and untied the strings of his own mask. It felt nice to breathe in the clean morning air. Maybe he’d go for a walk around the block and open the bookstore a little  _ late _ . People could surely wait an extra half an hour for their porn, right?

He was just pondering how many clientele they could expect that weekend when his vision was unexpectedly obstructed by Zuko’s face. And then his mouth was unexpectedly covered by Zuko’s mouth. 

He was just beginning to come to terms with this very exciting new reality--a reality where Zuko’s lips were warm and sweet and just a little bit chapped, a reality where he was opening his mouth and Zuko’s lips were parting in response, a reality where the election didn’t fucking matter because Zuko was kissing him--when Toph’s voice burst violently through his eardrums.

“Hey gays! Wanna help us design t-shirts? I thought it was a joke, but this is gonna be a GOLD MINE.”

Sokka broke away from Zuko with a muttered oath. “We are BUSY, Toph!” he yelled. “In the middle of something! Otherwise occupied! Previously engaged!”

“Getting horizontal in the parking lot?” Toph chuckled. “I don’t think so, Snoozles. Mazel tov, but the future of my business is at stake and Rudy just shit the bed all over Pennsylvania. I need your aesthetic expertise, stat.”

“Why don’t you just do it yourself?” Sokka whined, although he felt extremely flattered that his artistic genius was finally being appreciated.

“When do I have to stop pointing out the obvious to you?” Toph sighed. 

Sokka looked desperately around at Zuko. Surely he would see that this was totally ridiculous, and what they should really be doing was more kissing. Unfortunately, there was a familiar demented fire in Zuko’s eyes.

“I screen printed 250 Biden-Harris shirts in my apartment last week,” he said gravely. “How can I help?”

And Sokka, groaning loudly, allowed himself to be towed back across the street, promising himself that he would at least sneak one more kiss before they had to enter Four Seasons Total Landscaping. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I really just think my best work is accomplished in 45 minutes on a Saturday evening while my partner repeatedly asks if I'm going to help make dinner. Sometimes it just be like that.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [AtLA 4STL [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29072616) by [Rionaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rionaa/pseuds/Rionaa)




End file.
